


Left Holding the Bag, Part 3 (Conclusion)

by gardnerhill



Series: Cats and Dogs Living Together [7]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Animals, Animal Abuse, Cat Sherlock Holmes, Community: watsons_woes, Dog John, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-18 01:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15474174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: The denouement of the story started inPart 1and continued inPart 2. Also, there are different ways to parent.





	Left Holding the Bag, Part 3 (Conclusion)

"Shock," I huffed as I hop-hobbled into the alley we shared. My tail was up for more reasons than balance in my three-legged gallop. "Tell me you've found the mislittered humans who did that."

That infuriating cat – my partner, and occasionally even my friend, I reminded myself – lay on his milk-crate and washed himself as if he'd done nothing more exciting than beg a treat at the fish-stalls. "It's not a good idea to get involved with other's children, Army dog."

I kept my mouth closed, but my teeth were bared inside.

I'd spent more than two days helping to care for two pups abandoned in a skip, the only survivors of a newborn litter thrown away like garbage by humans who raised fighting dogs. For two days I'd begged or scrounged food for the nursing alley-cat Meg in payment for her feeding the stout little girl and her frail little brother. I'd washed them with my tongue until they'd smelled like living pups once again and not like stinking garbage and dead pups. I'd warmed them at night with my body, told them stories about their wolf ancestors, and kept the stout-hearted bitch-girl from walking out of the alley to find her wrongdoers herself.

"Involved"? I'd practically become their father in those two days. And I'd _promised_ that little girl that I'd come back to her.

And here was Shock, cool and detached, warning me not to care about what had happened. Just like a damn _cat_ who'd never twitched a whisker over any of his own sired kittens to–

I held still and said nothing, panting to blow out my anger as well as my heat. Cats, I reminded myself silently, are not dogs. I remembered my partner's waving tail when he found the skip – proof that he was indeed very angry about whichever humans had done this. I ruefully licked my nose, remembering the nasty scratch I'd gotten from one of Shock's pregnant queens when I'd offered unwanted parental help. And Meg had been an education herself.

_"Nah, these ain't Shock's brats," she'd said the day before, washing her kits one by one while I did the same for the two pups. "Two or three other blokes – Shock never showed last time I was yellin' for it. Had a litter with 'im once, though. Last year, I think. They all lived, grew up, made their way. That was a good litter. I never got bad-hungry. There was always something to eat near me when I'd wake up, Shock allus was a good thief. Good as you, three-legs."_

Shock had never tended his own kits, but he'd made sure they all lived and got strong by keeping Meg fed. That would account for some of those fish he stole from the market that we never wound up eating…

Cats were not dogs. And there were all sorts of ways one could be a parent.

I whuffed one last time, and dropped my head and tail.

"The pups will have to go to the shelter soon," Shock said, still washing his forepaw and not looking at me. He said nothing about my near-attack or my temper.

I knew. Once again that infuriating cat was right. "She's a young wolf. She saved her brother and tried to go after those bad humans herself. I'd be proud to call them my own pups."

"You're all heart, Army dog." It was not a compliment.

"Then it's a good thing you're all brain, tailchaser," I replied in the same tone.

"Yes." Shock stood and stretched, mouth stretched in a grimace of a yawn. "I called you back because I've tracked the dog-fighting humans back to their den. It's guarded by fighting dogs that have killed before – cats as well as other dogs. I got away from them."

And that was when I saw the bleeding gash on Shock's side. He hadn't been yawning but grimacing in pain.

"Fenris, you're hurt!" I dashed forward, all my anger at him forgotten.

"I've gotten worse fighting other toms." But Shock was shuddering very slightly all over when I stroked his wound with my tongue. "Tonight, we can head back there and–"

"You're not going anywhere tonight," I said firmly, and lifted Shock out of his crate by the scruff; the cat made a brief squall of pain and indignance as I settled him in my own sleeping niche and curled around him as I had with the pups. "Not until this stops bleeding. Tomorrow night we go after those dog-killers." I began licking the wound in earnest.

"Very well," the cat said. "Mum." But he stopped trembling, and fell asleep in a short time; I never stopped licking his gash until I went to sleep.

***

The next night, after spending the day resting and eating what I fetched for him, Shock led me to the building where the dog-fighters lived; we hid behind a skip to cover our scent. The place reeked of dogs and human men and blood and pain. The two dogs outside were heavily-built, scarred, savage – easily able to tear me to pieces between them, let alone a cat. "You should have brought me with you to smell them out," I said. "My nose is better than yours. And you might not have gotten hurt."

Shock still limped, but his voice was level as ever. "You're good at getting food. Meg and the pups needed you more than I did. My sense of smell is almost as good as yours."

"Who's there! Who's there!" the guard-dogs barked, looking around. For a second I was afraid they'd caught us, but then they repeated the call and looked around again in the same way. It was just their guard-call.

"The network is ready?" Shock asked.

"I called everybody. Once they learned why, no questions. They even brought new ones in…"

I stopped, rigid at what I'd just smelled. One particular faint dog-scent, past the two guards and mingled with all the different dogs in that building. Bitch. Recently whelped. The same scent that had clung to the two lost pups… Excitement shook me from nose to tail. "Shock, the pups' mother is in there!" Oh, she'd be so relieved to–

"We can't give them back to her, Army dog."

Shock might as well have slapped my muzzle with his claws out. " _What_? Why not? If we get her away from those bad humans—"

Shock's tail waved. "Dogfighting, and breeding for dogfighting, changes dogs."

"Who's there! Who's there!" the guards barked.

"Look at those two. That breed can be gentle and happy as a three-legged Army dog, when they're not trained to kill from puppyhood. Now they're good only for the sleep – they can't go to homes, they'd kill human infants now, as well as other pets in the house."

"But she might—"

Shock hissed once, and I was silent. That meant it was time. "Are you ready?"

I glared at the foul-smelling building. "For four days now."

"Then let's end this."

I walked out from behind the skip and approached the guards.

Eyes glittering, the two brutes growled and ran right at me.

That's when I threw back my head and – yipped. I did not growl a challenge, nor did I bark the way I'd been trained by my army humans, nor howl. I made the high-pitched, short, sharp cry of a hurt pup.

Both guards stopped dead for just a second, their ears and tail drooped in the automatic response that all dogs have to avoid hurting children. The next moment their eyes were glittering and they snarled with rage as they ran toward me once again.

Another hurt-pup cry echoed from the alley behind them. And another, from another side. And more, from all sides of that building. The guard-dogs halted, looking wildly around them at the cries that surrounded them.

I kept up the noise. So did every single dog in Shock's alley network, and a few newcomers as well – sounding the cry of a child's pain, a dozen cries. I even heard an expertly mimicked yip from my cat partner.

The humans in that building shouted and cursed – but now humans in nearby buildings made cries of distress. This building might be thick enough to hide the sounds of barking or fighting inside, with the bodies disposed of in other skips the way we'd found those two pups, but this noise was outside. And those humans began to call to their own protectors to come and see who was hurting so many puppies in the building across the way.

"Run," I said to the guards over the pup-yelps. "It's over. The humans that are coming will kill you."

The brutes charged me, eyes blank of all except death.

I yelped in their faces – and once again, the deep-down instinct to not-hurt a pup stopped them both for a moment. And that's when I ran for my life.

The guards couldn't catch me as I hobble-galloped down an alley, passing yelping dogs – for those yips and cries of distress stopped and slowed them, letting me race back to the alley. Another wail approached that building – human police, who would open that door and see.

***

"I promised I'd come back, Wolf Girl." I showed my friendliest face. "The bad humans who threw you away are in cages now. They can't hurt any more dogs."

The girl pup walked strongly, well-fed by a cat's milk. Her brother tottered after, but even he was stronger and bigger. Both were sleek and well-groomed; Meg had even given them a swipe with her tongue. They would not spend three days in the shelter before finding good homes; humans loved young puppies.

The girl looked me in the eyes, as direct as ever, a born pack-leader. "Mum?"

I ached at what I had to do. But she was strong and she needed to know the truth. I kept her gaze. "All the dogs in that place were given the sleep. They were killers and could not be helped. Your mother was one of the dogs." She'd bitten one of the helper humans that tried to save her when they took all the dogs. Shock had been right. None of them could go to homes.

Her ears and muzzle dropped. I licked her head, wishing I had better news for her.

"Cheer up, kid." Megan still sprawled in her box with her nursing kits. "Life hurts like hell. But it's better than what happened to the rest of the pups in that skip. You know that."

"I know." Her head was still down. "Thank you, Meg."

Meg made a small chuckling noise, a sound cats make to their kits. "Just, don't grow up to be a cat-worrier, kid. Nor your brother."

"Mum," the little boy yipped.

Meg buried her face in one paw. "Bast, thisun'll be yowling in alleys with Shock if you don't watch it."

Tail wagging, the little white pup toddled after his sister, making a sound suspiciously like a purr.

"Come with us," Shock said, from his perch atop a skip that only had the good honest smells of rotting food. "Tonight you'll find out what sleeping in a warm building feels like." His voice was as level and cool as before, but his tail was still and he gave a long slow blink. That, I had finally learned, meant that my partner was happy.

Together, we led our children to the shelter.

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2018 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #28, **“There Is Danger For Him Who Taketh The Tiger Cub”.** Include a parent or parental figure in today’s work.


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